Secrets of the Bravest Man
by whistlingawaythedark
Summary: It has been 10 years since that fateful night in Godric's Hallow. Now Severus must face his choice to protect the boy whose very existence symbolizes the love he lost. But Severus holds an even greater secret of a sacrifice that he has never spoken of. Only he knows of the original prophecy and the future it predicts for both himself and the wizarding world. Snape/Lily pairing.
1. Ten Years Waiting

Secrets of the Bravest Man

 **Author's Note:** This is the story of Severus Snape and the years he suffered as he sacrificed his life to protect the son of Lily Potter. Beginning in Harry's first year, this story will be written mostly, if not entirely, from Snape's perspective and will focus upon his inner world in relation to his interactions with Harry and memories from his childhood, school days and young adulthood. The story will be mostly canon in the beginning, but I have future plans to alter some of the key events leading up to Lily's murder. Snape/Lily pairing. Rating is T for now but will change to M in the future. Reviews are always greatly appreciated, thanks for reading!

 **Full Synopsis:** It has been ten years since the fateful night when Voldemort murdered Lily Potter at Godric's Hallow. Now Severus must face his choice to protect the boy whose very existence symbolizes the love he lost twice, first to his nemesis and second to death itself. But Severus holds an even greater secret of a sacrifice that he has never spoken of. Only he knows the content of the original prophecy and the future it predicts for both himself and the rest of the wizarding world. Snape/Lily pairing.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

Chapter 1: Ten Years Waiting

Severus Snape stood beneath the narrow archway of one of the castle's many uppermost arcades. He was facing the Hogwarts grounds and gazing out into the inky blackness where he could just make out the beads of lantern light illuminating a tiny fleet of boats on the lake. The water seemed to spread out before him like a dark blanket, the ripples caused by the boats' subtle movements creating tiny folds in its surface.

The boy was on one of those boats. The boy whose existence he must protect, though the task was already tormenting him. As he watched and waited, he felt his sense of curiosity mingle with resentment and trepidation. 10 years of waiting and the day had finally come.

He knew very little about the boy as of yet. Just what Dumbledore knew—or rather—what Dumbledore had bothered to tell him. He had long since ceased to expect that the infuriating old man would share the wealth of his knowledge and theories. Dumbledore hoarded information, carefully disclosing only that which was absolutely necessary for the recipient to fulfill his intended purpose.

 _His_ intended purpose. Severus sneered at the thought. Though he had no intention of going back on his promise to protect the boy, it still angered him that he had agreed to do so on Dumbledore's watch. He had never felt comfortable being at another's command. Even when joining the Death Eaters and swearing servitude to the Dark Lord, he had felt a pull against Voldemort's authority. And though he supposed Dumbledore was a much more desirable master, he still disliked the feeling that he did not have complete autonomy.

Severus recalled his conversation with Dumbledore from the previous night, when he had finally allowed his anxiety regarding the boy's impending arrival to get the better of him. Over the past few weeks he had avoided asking questions or engaging in conversation about the boy's appearance and demeanor, though he knew Hagrid had briefed the headmaster on his observations after escorting Potter to Diagon Alley to purchase his school things. However, Dumbledore's open invitation to relay the information he had gathered from the half-giant had finally prompted Severus to share his suspicions.

" _Hagrid informs me that he looks like his father."_

 _Severus scoffed and stopped pacing the circular office, turning to face Dumbledore._

" _He'll be just as arrogant too then, I imagine."_

" _On the contrary, Hagrid tells me that the boy is humble, kind, and well-mannered. Given the terrible loss he suffered at such a young age and the abusive nature of his upbringing, it is a wonder that—"_

" _Terrible loss he suffered? Abusive nature of his upbringing?" Again Severus scoffed. Already Potter was being put on a pedestal, painted as a poor, suffering, innocent child whose goodness was a miracle worthy of worshipping. He didn't think he could stand it. Another James Potter strutting about the school, flaunting his talent and breaking rules whenever he felt like it, jinxing anybody who looked at him funny. And the comment about an abusive upbringing, well Dumbledore didn't know what he was talking about, had no right to point out something that he knew Severus and the boy might have in common…_

 _Dumbledore gave him a long, piercing look and Severus knew that he guessed at least some of what he was thinking._

" _Severus… you are setting yourself up to dislike him. You haven't even met him yet."_

" _Neither have you!" He retorted._

" _Not entirely true. I met him a handful of times when he was a baby. But I have not seen him since the night I left him on the Dursley's doorstep ten years ago, so I cannot pretend to know who he has become. I am merely trying to point out to you that you are determined to dislike him, because you so disliked James."_

 _Severus did not speak. He had_ hated _James but he didn't feel that it would be prudent to correct Dumbledore on this detail at the moment. Dumbledore would certainly find it impertinent._

" _He has her eyes."_

 _Severus jerked his head irritably in response. Dumbledore always seem to think that this point settled the matter, that this one minuscule detail in the boy's appearance could somehow erase every bit of likeness he was bound to share with his father._

" _You've told me this before. As it happens, you remind me of this fact so frequently it would appear you believe I have been obliviated... I don't see why it should make any difference."_

" _He's her son." Dumbledore replied simply._

" _What's your point?"_

" _Don't forget why you are protecting him."_

" _Forget?" Severus snarled. "How could you think it possible for me to forget?"_

Severus had never found himself so offended by the headmaster's words. How could he honestly believe that he had, for one moment, forgotten why he had agreed to make such a sacrifice? Had his walls become so impenetrable that Dumbledore no longer saw the unrelenting agony that Severus experienced every time they discussed the task he had set for himself?

Severus took a deep, calming breath. The boats had finally disappeared from view, made impossible to see by the cliff face that overshadowed the underground harbor. It would be time soon. Severus took one last sweeping look over the dark grounds before turning on his heel to stride purposely towards the staircase that led downwards to the great hall. As he reached the topmost stair, he paused to pull up the emotional shields that he had become so practiced at maintaining. Bracing himself for the moment that had haunted his mind for the past ten years, he resumed his descent.

* * *

Severus slipped into the great hall from a passageway behind the staff table. The passage had been built over a 100 years ago for the purpose of allowing the teachers entrance to and from the hall without having to pass the four house tables full of students. Dumbledore always said it was an unfortunate addition and that it forced a separation between staff and students that was unnecessary and alienating. Severus disagreed. He was grateful for whichever Hogwarts headmaster had had the foresight to add it to the castle's internal architecture. He preferred his contact with the students to be limited to class time and the occasional detention. Anything beyond that was a serious test to his patience. But then again, Severus had never had much patience to begin with.

As he seated himself at the long table, he could feel Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes boring into him but he did not turn to meet his gaze. Severus was a superb occlumens but he had long ago deduced that Dumbledore could detect his thoughts and emotions without breaking directly into his mind, though he suspected eye contact still remained an important piece of this. He supposed this ability was the result of Dumbledore's highly developed instincts and extensive knowledge of the human psyche. Body language, facial expressions and emotional energies were all things that the old wizard could pick up upon and interpret with unnerving accuracy. Keeping this in mind, Severus shifted in his seat so that his back was half-turned to the headmaster. His greasy curtain of hair successfully hid his face and he felt confident that the most Dumbledore could deduce from these signals was that Severus did not wish to be X-rayed or analyzed.

Just then there was a murmur of interest as the doors to the great hall opened. Minerva entered with a line of terrified-looking first years shuffling in behind her. Severus felt his heart thrum in his chest and his mouth go dry. So this was it. This was the moment he had been both anticipating and dreading for so many long years.

His dark eyes scanned the group of frightened 11 year-olds now making their way past the house tables. It didn't take him long to find the boy. He was the smallest and skinniest of the lot. From this distance Severus couldn't make out the color of his eyes or the lightening-shaped scar that made Potter so famous, but his untidy black hair and glasses were unmistakable.

Severus' initial reaction surprised him. He didn't know why but he felt disappointed, almost as if he had been expecting to discover something different when he first laid eyes upon Lily Evan's son. It made no sense, given that he had been the one who had insisted to Dumbledore that Potter's appearance meant nothing to him. Furthermore, he _had_ glimpsed the boy on the night of Lily's death when he had entered the wreckage of the house in the aftermath of Voldemort's downfall. The boy had been standing in his crib, holding the bars in his tiny hands and screaming his head off, while Lily lay lifeless on the floor, her green eyes vacant, empty. He had barely spared the child a glance at the time and yet he had not failed to notice the unfortunate likeness between the baby and his father. And yet, a small, suppressed part of him had indeed been hoping that this likeness might have changed. That the boy would have in fact grown to look more like...

His thoughts were interrupted as the first years reached the staff table and began to form a line facing the other students. Severus got a closer look at Potter as he placed himself between the sandy-haired boy who had been in front of him in line and another first year whose red hair and freckles automatically identified him as a Weasley. In the fleeting moment before Potter turned his back to him, Severus caught a glimpse of the lightening scar partially disguised beneath his dark fringe and the bright green eyes hidden behind his glasses. Then the boy was facing away from him and all he could see was the back of his head, untidy black hair sticking up in the exact same way his father's had.

The hall became silent as the first years finished taking their places and Minerva set the sorting hat upon a four-legged stool in front of them. He turned his attention to the hat as its brim opened wide into a mouth which burst into song. The sorting was about to begin.

* * *

Severus had much more difficulty focusing upon the sorting than he was accustomed to. Although he took brief interest when Lucius' Malfloy's son, Draco, was sorted into his own house, his mind was otherwise elsewhere until the moment in which Potter's name was called. When this happened he shot a glance at Dumbledore and saw that he was leaning forward intently, both his eyes and all of his concentration fixed entirely upon the trembling boy who approached the stool.

There was hissing throughout the hall as Potter sat himself gingerly upon the stool and allowed Minerva to lower the hat onto his head. People were whispering and craning their necks to get a better look at him but the hat was so large that it fell down over his face and rendered their attempts to see him entirely pointless.

As the moments Potter sat on the stool stretched on the whispering died away and a collective silence filled the hall. Severus felt himself being swept up in the anxious energy that surrounded him and noticed that his hands, which had been resting in his lap moments before, were now clenching the edge of the table. He relaxed them instantly. He knew there was no reason for everyone to hold their breath. The boy would be in Gryffindor. Both his parents were and from everything Hagrid had told Dumbledore, it sounded like he would follow in their footsteps. Still, the sorting hat was taking an unusually long time, especially for someone whose path should have been clear. Severus snuck another look at Dumbledore and as he did so the hat's voice sounded in the hall.

"... GRYFFINDOR!"

Severus found himself clapping with the rest, though rather less enthusiastically. Again, he felt a strange sense of disappointment. It wasn't like he had wanted the boy in his own house. He shuddered simply at the thought. He supposed his feelings were brought on by the surrealness of the entire evening. It all felt horribly familiar to him and he suddenly made the connection between his present reaction and memories of his own sorting so many years prior. Severus did not want to dwell on the past. He pushed the images of Lily skipping happily over to the Gryffindor table out of his mind and focused his attention back on the boy as he sat down next to his cheering housemates.

It was then that it happened. Potter looked up at the high table, first making eye contact with Dumbledore before his gaze drifted in the direction of the potions' master. Their eyes met for an instant and Severus felt a powerful surge of emotion, intense hatred mixed with an excruciating sadness. The boy flinched, putting a hand to his forehead and then turned away.

Severus breathed in and out slowly, forcing himself to empty all thought and emotion from his mind. Then he too turned away, refocusing his energy upon the sorting. He did not look at Potter again for the rest of the evening.

 **TBC…**


	2. Just Like His Father

Secrets of the Bravest Man

 **Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites and follows. I really appreciate receiving feedback and it is great to know that I have readers!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. This is for entertainment purposes only. Some of the dialogue in this chapter is borrowed from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter 8, The Potions Master and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 33, The Prince's Tale.

Chapter 2: Just Like His Father

After the welcome feast, Severus had declined Dumbledore's invitation to join him in his office for a drink. Instead he had returned to the dungeons, desiring only to be alone so that he could think.

Arriving in his own office he sought immediately to pour himself a shot of firewhisky and it was only after he had drained the glass and poured himself a second that he finally felt ready to face what he had been suppressing for the greater part of the evening.

Setting his glass down upon his desk, he walked over to a cabinet beside it and pulled open its shabby wooden doors. Sitting on the topmost shelf was a shallow basin full of a strange, silvery-white substance. Odd symbols were carved into its side and its contents glowed brightly, illuminating his pale face.

This was Dumbledore's pensieve, a magical device used to store and view thoughts and memories. Severus had borrowed it earlier that summer under the pretense of reviewing his memories from his death eater days, hoping to find useful information that could aid him in his task to protect Potter. While he certainly had used it for this purpose, his real motives for requesting it were much more personal. He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore would approve. He might not deem it wise to indulge in memories that were infused with suffering but virtually useless in content.

The problems his pensieve visits were already causing him should have been enough to dissuade him without any help from Dumbledore. He was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his shields in the aftermath of these visits and as a result, he was experiencing unpleasant dreams which caused him to wake frequently throughout the night. A lack of sleep coupled with his usual irritable temperament meant that he had even less patience for dealing with the mundane difficulties in his daily life. He knew that this would only get worse now that classes were about to start again.

And yet, his forays into his past brought him equal parts joy and agony. For years, his heart had ached to see Lily again in the flesh. Stepping inside his own mind was the closest he would ever get now that she was dead. If the memories were good for anything, they made it impossible for him to forget why he had chosen such a dark and miserable path. And perhaps more importantly, they reminded him why it was essential that he continue.

Many times throughout the past 10 years, Severus had considered ending it all. If it weren't for the terrible sacrifice that he had already made, for the inconceivable truth that he had not even shared with Dumbledore, he would have taken his own life on the day that he found Lily dead in Godric's Hallow. Because without Lily, there was no life for him. There was only survival. And survive he must, for a greater purpose. He would not allow his sacrifice to be in vain.

Severus gritted his teeth angrily and shook himself from these thoughts. He did not want to think about his current predicament anymore tonight. He was ready to disappear for a while. To immerse himself in moments that he treasured, moments that simultaneously sustained him and broke him apart.

Carefully he removed the pensieve from its shelf and set it down on top of his desk. Putting his wand tip to his temple, he drew out a long silvery strand, which he gently guided into the basin. As it made contact with its shimmering surface, the contents of the basin began to swirl and then became transparent.

Gazing down into its depths, Severus saw the image of a young girl with striking red hair and bright green eyes. She was lying in the grass beneath a willow tree, her hair splayed beneath her and her body parallel to a skinny, awkward-looking boy with dark, greasy hair and a hooked nose. The boy said something Severus couldn't hear and the girl grinned mischievously.

Feeling a painful tug at his heartstrings, Severus stepped closer to the basin.

Then, taking a deep breath, he plunged his face into the pensieve and fell headfirst into his past.

* * *

Severus swept into his dungeon classroom, his black eyes glinting and his cloak billowing behind him.

The door slammed automatically and the class, which had been chattering loudly, immediately fell into silence.

Severus smirked as he reached the front of the room and turned to face the group of anxious first years. As always, new students could sense that he was not one to tolerate disrespect or disobedience. He had never had any trouble controlling his classes.

Glaring down at them all, he picked up a piece of parchment from his desk, which contained the list of Slytherin and Gryffindor first years sitting before him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Potter in the third row, but he avoided making eye contact with the boy just as he had done throughout the entire week at meal times in the great hall.

This was Potter's first potions class and Severus knew that his nerves were about to be tested. It didn't help that this was his last class of the week and that the previous day a Hufflepuff second year had created mayhem by causing his cauldron to explode all over the dungeon. Several students had sustained serious burns and the resulting chaos has prompted an excruciating headache and two extra hours of paperwork.

As he had with Potter's arrival to Hogwarts, Severus had been dreading his first close contact with the boy. Despite his efforts, he still hadn't managed to sort out the muddle of emotions that he had been experiencing all week as he anticipated the disaster that this class was sure to be. All he knew for certain was that he already loathed everything about the boy, and that this seemingly unjustified hatred was not as superficially rooted in the boy's appearance as many might assume. It was in fact the product of something much deeper; namely, what the boy's existence represented to him and the miserable path that lay ahead.

Severus began to call roll, glancing up briefly as each student declared him or herself present. However, when he reached Potter's name, he couldn't help himself. He paused and looked up, his black eyes seeking out the green.

"Ah yes." He said softly, once their eyes had found one another.

The boy's gaze was impassive and unreadable but he did not look away.

Severus sneered.

"Mr. Potter, our new… celebrity."

Potter's eyes widened slightly at the contempt in his tone and Severus felt that same surge of hatred that had coursed through him when they had first made eye contact at the opening feast. This time, however, the sadness he had also experienced previously seemed more distant, less important. The boy's eyes, though exact replicas of his mother's, were clearly not enough to offset the arrogance and superiority that he had inherited from his father.

A few Slytherins had snickered at Severus' comment but the room had now fallen silent again and he returned to his parchment to finish calling role. Once he had read every name on the list, he proceeded to lecture the students on the art of potion-making, all the while shooting disdainful looks in Potter's direction.

As he spoke to the class at large, he could feel his fury building, his attempts to contain it becoming increasingly more difficult to execute. Images from his own first week at Hogwarts—of James Potter taunting him and of being jinxed and laughed at—attacked his mind like an infestation of angry bees.

As if to swat away the memories that assaulted him he flicked his hand irritably and then, without pausing to think before he acted, he turned to the boy.

"Potter!" He snapped, startling most of the class. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Potter looked baffled by the question and he instantly glanced sideways at the Weasley boy sitting next to him who shook his head, looking just as puzzled.

A girl with bushy brown hair to Potter's left had thrown her hand into the air the minute Severus had finished asking the question and she looked positively desperate to provide an answer.

Severus ignored her, his eyes still fixed on Potter, waiting for a reply.

"I don't know, sir." The boy answered, staring right back at him.

Severus sneered again.

"Tut, tut—clearly fame isn't everything. Is it, Mr. Potter?"

Potter did not flush, though anger seemed to flash across his face momentarily before it became blank and impassive again.

Severus' sneer became even more pronounced. He wanted the boy to react. He wanted to see his humiliation, to be able to successfully inflict emotional damage in a way that he had never been able to with Potter's father. _He_ had the power and control now and he realized in that moment that he had every intention of using it. Just as visiting his memories in the pensieve was now the closest he could ever get to Lily, taunting Potter's son was the only means left in which to seek revenge for all the humiliation and pain he had suffered in his school days.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

The boy shook his head and Severus could tell that he was now expending all his effort to keep his face free of emotion. Severus had to give him some credit for that. Perhaps he was made of slightly thicker skin than his father. Perhaps he had a bit more self-control.

"Well?" He quipped when Potter did not give a verbal answer.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

This time the boy did flush a little and Severus could see his defenses starting to crumble, a look of injustice and indignation rising on his face.

Feeling triumphant, he tried again.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

That seemed to do it. Potter's face tensed immediately and though he answered quietly, there was a definite edge in his voice that hadn't been there before.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does though, why don't you ask her?"

He nodded his head in the direction of the bushy-haired girl, who was now standing and stretching her fingers towards the ceiling in her desperation to be called upon to give the answers. A few people laughed but Severus only felt angrier. _Just like his father, indeed._

"Sit down." He snapped at the girl as he swept between the desks towards Potter. He pulled an empty chair up and sat himself down across from him so that they were face to face, so close that he could see the details of the lightening scar etched onto his forehead.

Glaring at him contemptuously, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous, and yet it still carried throughout the room.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

The boy's expression had become stony while Severus spoke and his hands had curled into fists where they rested on top of his desk.

Feeling immensely satisfied by this reaction, Severus turned to address the rest of the class. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

While they were all rummaging for quills and parchment, he stood. But before returning to the front of the classroom he said clearly over the noise in the room, "A point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

The boy's face contorted in rage and he opened his mouth to retort but a well-placed kick from his Weasley friend stopped him.

Severus smirked and turned away. _Wise choice, Potter. Wise choice._

* * *

Later that evening found Severus making his way from the dungeons up the marble staircase to the headmaster's office. He had been avoiding Dumbledore all week and he had finally run out of excuses to delay. He knew the old man wasn't fooled and that he understood exactly why Severus hadn't been accepting his invitations to meet for a drink. Nonetheless, it didn't make acquiescing any easier.

After he stated the password, the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office leapt aside and Severus stepped onto the revolving staircase. Once it delivered him at the entrance, he grasped the bronze knocker shaped like a Griffin and tapped it against the door.

"Come in." Came the headmaster's voice.

Sighing, Severus turned the knob and pushed open the door.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his face hidden behind a copy of _Transfiguration Today._

"Ah, good evening, Severus." He said, closing the magazine and placing it on his desk.

"Good evening Headmaster."

Severus closed the door behind him and took the seat opposite.

"Can I offer you something to drink? Some firewhisky… or giggle water perhaps?"

Severus scrunched up his nose at the second suggestion, already irritated by Dumbledore's attempt to humor him.

"Firewhisky is… fine."

"Of course."

Dumbledore waved his wand and two glasses full of amber liquid appeared out of thin air in front of them.

Picking up the one closest to him, Dumbledore raised his glass in salute before drinking deeply. Severus followed suit.

They sat in silence for a moment, Severus allowing the fiery liquid to burn his throat and tongue while he contemplated the weeks' events.

Then Dumbledore spoke.

"I trust your first week of term has been well?"

Severus scoffed but did not reply.

"Not so well then I take it?"

"Yet another batch of incompetent dunderheads that I have to teach… it seems the number of idiots entering Hogwarts grows every year…"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Not much has changed for you then, I take it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Severus shot back. His temper was still simmering from earlier and he didn't think Dumbledore should test it.

"Only that this is your complaint every year…. However, you appear particularly on edge this evening. Might it be related to a specific first year student or—as you would say it— _dunderhead_?"

Severus glared at him, and then without warning, the name escaped his lips in a snarl of fury.

"Potter!"

Dumbledore did not flinch but several of the portraits of the previous headmasters, who had been sleeping peacefully in their frames, woke with angry cries.

Severus ignored them.

"He's just like his father… arrogant, attention-seeking, impertinent—"

Dumbledore cut across him.

"You see what you expect to see Severus. Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likeable, and reasonably talented… Besides, how much time have you actually spent with Harry as of yet? Surely you've only had one class with him?"

Feeling even more annoyed, Severus chose not to reply again and instead fixed his stare upon the sleeping portrait of Phineas Nigellus, Hogwarts' last Slytherin Headmaster. He took several deep breaths and finally Dumbledore spoke again.

"It is my hope, Severus, that you can rethink your opinion of the boy and postpone your judgments until you have spent more time with him. His likeness to James in looks must certainly be difficult for you to cope with but I believe you have the capability see past that."

Severus suppressed a snort as he shifted his gaze back to Dumbledore. _If he only knew,_ he thought bitterly. But Severus could not tell him. He _would not_ let Dumbledore in on the secret that he had kept to himself all these years.

Realizing that he was dangerously close to allowing the information he had been carefully concealing float to the front of his mind, he forced his shields back up, creating a barrier so powerful that it's solidified equivalent would have been an impenetrable stone wall.

Dumbledore did not break eye contact and Severus could sense that he was indeed trying, albeit silently, to pluck the thoughts from his mind.

"I get the sense, Severus, that you have been trying to hide something important from me for a long time. Something that is relevant and crucial to what we are trying to do."

Severus didn't respond, his face remained blank. Dumbledore's eyes continued to x-ray him.

After a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, Dumbledore sighed and broke off his attempts to read Severus' thoughts.

"I can see that you are not ready to reveal it to me but I hope that in due time you will change your mind. I do not, in any case, believe it has to do with disloyalty. But just to be sure, you do still intend to follow through on your end of our bargain?"

Severus looked directly into the headmaster's eyes, this time allowing him to see quite clearly that he spoke the truth.

"Of course I do."

"Good. That's settled then." Dumbledore drained his glass, looking satisfied.

"May I leave now?" Severus asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Certainly. You are not a hostage here… I would however like to ask you one last thing."

"And what's that?" Severus replied as he stood up to leave.

"Keep an eye on Quirrell won't you? I sense that he is hiding something."

"As you wish."

And without another word, he swept from the room leaving Dumbledore to ponder the secret he refused to reveal.

 **TBC…**


	3. Nighttime Wanderings

Secrets of the Bravest Man

 **Author's Note:** Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! It means the world to me.

Chapter 3: Nighttime Wanderings

As the first weeks of term rolled out before him, Severus found that his mood was indeed becoming darker. As he had already spent so many consecutive years in misery, he wasn't too fussed about it. He only noticed a mild increase in his general level of discomfort and he felt that, for the most part, he was sufficiently equipped to handle the fluctuation.

His students, unfortunately, were not so hardened by life and thus it was they who bore the brunt of his foul temper. He was now handing out more detentions than he had ever done in his entire teaching career and he had become relentless in his taunting of Potter and his Gryffindor comrades.

He knew that he gained too much satisfaction out of humiliating the boy and that Dumbledore would not approve. But he didn't care. It was his one opportunity for revenge and it was also, at times, the only thing that prevented him from causing Potter serious bodily injury. The boy's arrogance and cheek would have been unbelievable if Severus hadn't known his father before him. Worse though, was the other staff's refusal to see it. Just like his father, Potter was given praise and special privileges that he had neither earned nor deserved. It caused Severus to feel as if his blood had been lit on fire.

Of course he knew that there was no way he would ever convince Dumbledore or any of the other teachers to recognize Potter's insubordination and disrespect for rules and authority. And he didn't bother to try. In fact, Severus avoided the others as much as possible, especially Dumbledore. He felt sure that the headmaster would recognize the instability of his emotional state and try to take advantage of it.

He found it most difficult to keep his distance from Dumbledore at meal times, where it seemed that the older wizard's gaze was too often fixed upon him. Severus did everything in his power to prevent eye contact, but in the brief moments when it was unavoidable, he was surprised to find concern and anxiety etched into the wizened features. This did nothing to improve his mood. He did not want anyone's pity.

As agreed, Severus kept a close watch on Quirrell. He had taken to patrolling the corridors at night, often stationing himself outside the defense teacher's quarters, in case he left for a nighttime wandering.

Severus' diligence was rewarded very late one evening when he was standing in wait behind a suit of armor outside Quirrell's office. Just as he was considering giving up for the night and returning to his own quarters, there was a creak of a door opening.

Remaining still and silent, Severus watched as Quirrell slipped from his office and began moving down the hall in the opposite direction.

Disillusioning himself and casting a charm to muffle his footsteps, Severus followed.

They walked for about ten minutes up staircases, around corners, and once through a tapestry concealing a hidden passageway. Severus was careful to keep as wide a distance as he could without losing site of the professor. The disillusionment and muffling charms were very effective for preventing detection but he still had to be careful. He was not completely invisible and if he bumped into anything, Quirrell would hear the sound.

He was concentrating so hard on remaining undiscovered that he didn't recognize where they were until Quirrell halted suddenly outside a closed door. Taking in his surroundings, Severus realized at once that they were standing just outside the forbidden entrance to the third floor corridor.

Being fully aware of the great treasure that lay beyond the door and miles beneath them, it was not difficult for him to guess Quirrell's intentions.

 _Two-faced greedy bastard,_ Severus muttered to himself, sneering and speaking low enough so that he couldn't be heard. _He must be after the stone._

Considering what he should do, he watched silently as Quirrell ran his hand along the door in front of him, stroking the aged wood with his pale fingers.

Severus knew that Quirrell was already aware of the beast that lay beyond and the many obstacles put in place to protect the stone from theft. But he was also certain that he did not know the secret of how to get past the giant dog nor the details of the other enchantments. Dumbledore had been careful to give as little information as possible to the staff about the stone's protections and this had clearly been a wise decision.

Suddenly, Severus realized that Quirrell had his wand out and was pointing it at the door. Before he could make a move to stop him however, he heard the faint whisper of 'Alohomora' and it swung open wide.

Immediately, there was a great rumbling growl that caused the floor to shake and vibrate beneath their feet. Severus could see through the open doorway the enormous figure of the vicious, three-headed dog that Hagrid has christened 'Fluffy'. Its three drooling mouths were bared in matching snarls and its pointed yellowish fangs were menacing and terrifying to behold.

Before Severus had fully recovered from the sight of the thing, it lunged forward.

Fortunately, Quirrell was prepared for this and he directed his wand back at the door, causing it to slam shut just as the nearest gnarring head reached the entrance and snapped its jaws at him.

"Colloportus!" Quirrell bellowed as he stumbled backwards. The lock clicked.

Although the thundering growls continued and the sound of paws scraping wood could be heard from behind the door, it remained shut. The dog could not escape.

Quirrell leaned over, panting loudly and clutching his legs for support.

Severus also found that his chest felt tight and constricted and that his breathing was shallow. He took great steadying breathes, sucking in as much air as his lungs could hold. After about a minute he felt his heart beat slow to its normal rhythm and the terror left him.

Quirrell took a bit longer to recover but finally he straightened up and glanced around, clearly checking to see if anyone had appeared in response to the dogs booming barks and snarls.

His eyes passed over the spot where Severus stood, concealed by the disillusionment charm. The potions master remained quite still, knowing that movement might make him more noticeable. He was able to cast the spell powerfully but nevertheless, it was not foolproof. An invisibility cloak would have done better.

Thankfully, the charm seemed to do the trick. Quirrell did not appear to see him and once he looked away, Severus side-stepped to his right behind a statue. He watched in silence as the defense professor hurried past him and back the way he had come.

For a while after he had gone, Severus remained in his hiding place, thinking about what he had just witnessed.

To his surprise, no one—not even Filch—came to investigate.

Eventually, Severus decided to return to his quarters to rest his mind before the new day began.

Though it was just over two hours until dawn when Severus finally found himself back in his private quarters he decided to try for some sleep. He knew he would need to speak with Dumbledore that evening and that rest would make the conversation easier. He wished he could take a dreamless sleep potion but he was too afraid it would cause grogginess, so he settled for using occlumency to clear his mind instead.

His exhaustion was so heavy that he drifted off too quickly, his brain still unsettled and working furiously. Soon he was dreaming.

 _In his dream Severus found himself lying with Lily beneath a great willow tree near her house in Cokeworth. At first the the world around them was pleasant. A warm breeze tickled his skin, the air smelled of damp grass and flowers, and the sun shone brilliantly through the branches upon their faces._

 _"Lily" He said to her. "We should find a place like this at Hogwarts."_

 _"I'd love that Severus." She replied, and her smile was radiant, making his heart soar._

 _But then a sudden darkness came in the form of a terrible black cloud that spread out in the sky above them._

 _"Lily!" He cried as reached out to grasp her hand. To his horror, he found that she was nothing but empty, transparent air and she faded instantly into nothingness when he tried to touch her._

 _And then before he realized what was happening the earth opened beneath him and he fell down, down, down to he knew not where. But all around him colors and shapes swirled and images flickered and he saw that he was flying through a floo network of memories, drawing nearer and nearer towards a singular unknown moment in time._

 _Without any preparation and without willing it, he stumbled face first into his destination and he lifted his head to find himself cowering on the floor of his worst memory._

 _The ruined nursery rose up above him, eerie as he remembered it, half of the ceiling and roof blown to bits, debris scattered amidst toy rattles and stuffed animals, and a black-haired baby with a lightening scar screaming in his crib._

 _A terrible wailing noise issued from his own throat and Severus looked down, knowing with heart-wrenching certainty what he would find, willing himself to turn away, to not relive it, to not feel it._

 _He could not bear it and yet he could not stop himself. The vision was everywhere and filled everything._

" _No..." He croaked, staring into her empty unseeing eyes, unable to accept the reality in front of him._

 _"No... Lily..."_

 _He reached out a trembling hand to touch her face and it was then that he saw the red thing that glinted, even darker and deeper than her flaming hair._

 _A red stone._

 _His felt an irrational hope seize him then and for the briefest, most tantalizing moment he believed that the object in front of him had the power to save her._

 _But just as his hand closed upon its smooth surface, a grim voice spoke overhead._

" _The stone cannot save her. She is gone."_

" _You!" Severus cried in anguish, looking up into Dumbledore's wizened old face._

 _And then the anger rose up inside him, terrible and uncontrolled._

 _He dropped the stone and stood, pointing a shaking finger at Dumbledore's chest._

" _You said you would keep her safe… You promised…"_

 _But his voice broke and then he was falling again. Dumbledore and the nursery were devoured instantly by a renewed darkness and yet somehow Lily's lifeless body was transported into his arms._

 _Together they fell endlessly and he held her as tight as he could, the reality of her death quite literally in his hands._

 _"It's my fault... it's my fault..." He sobbed._

 _"NO!"_

And then just as they hit solid ground, Severus woke with a start and a yell. He was panting and sweating and when his eyes flew open he did not immediately know where he was or what had happened.

Slowly he came back to reality, his bare chest heaving and his head pounding painfully against his skull. His sheets and blankets lay in a knotted lump at the bottom of the bed and his shorts were drenched with sweat. He touched his face and felt the tears that clung to his cheeks.

Trying to breath deeply, he coughed and spluttered for several minutes, unable to shake the painfully vivid images that were a mix of memory, reality, and dream.

Finally, when he was breathing normally again and the pain in his head had faded to a dull ache, he stood and headed to the shower to begin his day.

 **TBC...**


End file.
